[As much as she'd like to help him, she can hardly push when he sounds the way he does. She nods instead, moves her hand instead to rub his shoulder in a very affectionate gesture before she takes her hands away entirely.]
We'll try another time. I'll talk to Max about which parts I got wrong.
[Those are very mixed signals, but then again it is Alfie so perhaps she should just be used to that by now. It helps, though, to know it's a little better for him.]
Did it seem like it had gotten at all better since the Land of the Dead?
[The problem with this is that he's blanket miserable, and just projecting it everywhere. Shoving his way through that to think objectively about back pain isn't an easy task for Alfie, who actually runs extremely emotional and temperamental- beyond what he puts on for show.]
It's following the usual pattern. Improving, I would say, now that I'm resting it, but more gradually than I would like, and it'll likely not return entirely to where it was, which wasn't good to begin with.
[She doesn't say of course I will or that she hopes he knows he can come to her if he needs anything, because isn't that exactly what he did? It's touching in a way that has nothing to do with wardens or inmates, it's entirely about her being glad she's opened up enough to like people because if she hadn't, she would miss Alfie's presence in her life.
Angry and violent as he can be, she treasures him.]
I could always carry you home if you drank too much, but it does seem better to avoid that.
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[He lets her know, eyes shut.]
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We'll try another time. I'll talk to Max about which parts I got wrong.
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You didn't get it wrong.
[It just still hurts, is all.]
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Did it seem like it had gotten at all better since the Land of the Dead?
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It's following the usual pattern. Improving, I would say, now that I'm resting it, but more gradually than I would like, and it'll likely not return entirely to where it was, which wasn't good to begin with.
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[The way she says it, though, makes it sound like she means far more than just fixing his back.]
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[He promises, and stretches out, closing his eyes.]
You'd better walk me home, or I'll end up in the bar.
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Angry and violent as he can be, she treasures him.]
I could always carry you home if you drank too much, but it does seem better to avoid that.
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[He complains, getting creakily to his feet.]
You're right. Come on, let's go now, then.
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